


For All We Know

by arlenejp



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ass Play, Cock Licking, Cock Sucking, M/M, Original Character(s), Rimming, ass fingering, balls, cock rubbing, nipple lick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 21:55:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14819603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arlenejp/pseuds/arlenejp
Summary: What do we know about James Moriarty? Here's a possible insight into his life.It is a Morlock (Moriarty and Sherlock)





	1. First Time-Geoffrey

**Author's Note:**

> One minor character dies. Two major characters. The major ones take place in the last chapter.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim learns more than maths from Geoffrey

What a beautiful day it is in London!  
The air is clear, clean and I can peep over the edge from this high up and see the little people swarming around down below.

I know I'm here well before the stated time. It gives me breathing space to reminisce about my life. My earlier romances and my time with the man I now love. Love beyond all measure. He's the one I'm joining today, up here, up high.

============================================================

I've always been shy, and now in my teens, it's only accentuated. It's my sister who has the beauty, the wit, the popularity.

My parents, on many occasions try to encourage me out, to be with my peers. When I do venture to a party, I'm not comfortable, slouching in a big chair that can hide me, or in a corner.

Wondering what's wrong with me. Why am I not interested in the silly, foolish games and talk that winds around me? Shouldn't I, at sixteen be able to converse easily to my contemporaries?

My both parents work long hours, two jobs each, to provide enough money to see my sister and me into higher learning.

A lazy scholar is what the teachers have to say about me when my mom and dad are called to school.

" He can if he wants, but he's so lackadaisical about everything. And that includes his social life," my counselor explains to them.  
"I suggest a tutor, especially for maths. I know of one right near you. An older fellow," he leans over his desk to hand them a small piece of paper.

My mom contacts him, Geoffrey by name and settling on a price, agrees to work with me.

"Geoff, nice to meet you," skateboarding the two streets to his house.

"Come inside and let's see where you are in understanding numbers," into the small parlor, knickknacks stacked upon shelves, plants on tables and floor.

Geoff is twenty-two, ginger-color hair, taller than me and muscled.

His ability to take a subject that I cannot understand, work it into a different language to fascinate instead of scaring me is ideal.

"Geoff, what is it you do in your life? Do you have a job?" inquiring about him, after two weeks.

"I work in the mornings at Julia's bakery and then spend the rest of the day instructing twits like you," punching me lightly in the arm.

"And--in my leisure time, painting. I have a small inheritance from my grandfather and I'm waiting to have enough from tutoring to study art at a good institution," coming to his feet and pulling me up.

"Come outside and let me show you my studio," behind him, out the back door to a small garden and a brown wood building. The door open, he moves in, and I gasp, the overhead window is the first to grab my attention, drawing in the main illumination. There are two picture windows on the east and west side of the building.

A mass jumble of easels, tables, palettes, paints, rags, and frames. Most of the mountings are empty; a few have canvases in them.

"Feel free to look around," stepping to frames slanted on one wall, tipping them around so I can see the artwork. Scenics, most of the ocean, waves crashing on a beach or rocky outcropping. Kneeling down, I stare wide-eyed, "Geoff, magnificent!" all I can utter.

" The one on the easel is my latest. I haven't finished it yet," pulling a tarp off. A bunch of orange lilies, tied with a white ribbon, under a tree. The only thing painted is the lilies, everything else sketched in with a pencil.

"Geoff, how wonderful!"

"Need more instruction though," sighing, dejected, replacing the tarp, closing the door behind us and back into the house.

"Jimmy, let's stop, go get ourselves a pop and a snack," leading me into the kitchen.

" No one home?" looking around.

"Nah! Parents are at my mom's brother for the week. He's very sick," two cans of pop out of the refrigerator, handing me one.  
I flip the top, a swishing noise, and carbonated drink fizzes and flies up and out dousing my shirt, trousers and the floor.

"Oh jeez," jumping away, reflexes taking over.

Geoff steps in, towel in hand, kneeling down, wiping the floor," get out of those clothes, and I'll get mine for you to put on."  
Stripping down to my boxer shorts, my clothes on the floor, I stand there, suddenly aware of Geoff, on his knees, close to my hips, my manhood.  
His eyes fixate on my slight but growing bulge; I can hear his breath letting out a hiss.  
My pants growing tight, and my breath follows Geoffs.

Not peering up at my face, his hand reaches out and palms the cotton, my erection twitching.  
"Oh hell," whispering, as if someone was nearby, watching my passion flair up.  
I bend back leaning on the counter, my hands holding tight to the edge, eyes down, wary not daring to move.  
Closer to me, his mouth touches the green cotton of my pants, blowing his breath out and all the air goes whooshing out of my mouth.

" Let me, please," his mouth so close I can feel his words on my organ.

"I-yes, yes," and surrender to his fingers pulling my pants down to my knees, my cock's grandeur out in full view.

"Oh, that lovely tip, gleaming already with your juices," a finger touching, and my cock responding, twitching.  
His tongue reaches out, tasting, bathing my shaft with his liquid, up and down it wets me.  
Shuddering vibrates throughout myself, and even more when his mouth slides onto me, and fully engulfs, wraps itself around my organ, sucking it in, deep into his mouth.

"I'm going-I'm, oh, I can't--"as the overwhelming urge to surrender to him, to his mouth, his tongue. Exploding, peaking, thrusting deep into his mouth, my liquid erupting in force.

It's over, my weakened body sinking me down to the floor, Geoff taking me in his arms, cradling me.  
"I've never-" the words won't come.  
"Did you like?" taking my jaw in his hand and having me look into his face. I only can nod.  
" Would you like to try more? Have you ever had a man do that before?"  
"No, and no girl either. Still a virgin," in the haze of afterward.

" To let you know Jimmy. I'm gay. I like men. Does that trouble you?" his face close to mine, I tip my face closer, kissing his lips, showing him rather than telling how little it bothers me.  
He pulls us both up with his hands holding tight to my waist," Let me get you some clothes, then go home. I don't want you jumping into something you don't understand."  
I wait, my knees still shaky, my thoughts running wild.

Back in the kitchen, he throws the clothes to me, and, as if he's suddenly self-conscious, keeps his back to me as I dress.

"I'll still coach you in maths, no matter how you feel. Tell you what, If you want to explore further and lying with a man doesn't throw you, then take a picture of your dick and send it to me," facing me and walking me to the door.

I stop halfway down the street. I forgot my books and my clothes. I fluctuate, turning around a few times. No, Jim, you know what you want. Or do you? Unsure what is the right thing to do.

But once home, I don't have to reflect too hard.

My photo goes out within an hour of being home. The wait for tomorrow is unbearable.

Ringing the doorbell, I'm bouncing on my feet, anxious, scared, but- I want more.

" Never mind my studying. I fancy-" and try to jump into his arms as soon as the door slams shut.

"Whoa, baby," his arms holding me back, "not so fast. You'll be coming before you get out of your duds. Come with me,"taking my hand he leads me to the back of the house and into his bedroom. All I see is his bed, that place I want to lie in and be violated, taken apart.

"Lesson one, take it slow," close to me but not touching.  
"I'm going to take your clothes off, while you stand by the bed. If at any time you're frightened, tell me, and we'll stop. Got it?"  
I can only nod. Trembling with the notion, the speculation on what's to follow.  
Sitting on the bed, myself between his legs, he reaches up to my shirt, each button undone, tips of fingers floating over my exposed skin. He licks up my stomach, nipping at my skin.

"Stop, stop, stop," I growl, low in my throat.

"Do you mean that?" his hands lowering onto his thighs.

"No, No. Let me touch you," I weakly say.

"All in good time, Jimmy," moving me away from between him he stands and discards his clothes while I watch, eager to capture his body with my hands, tongue, and lips.

His cock, pinkish, a dip at the end, wet with his clear fluid dripping off it.  
Reaching out my fingers I touch the sticky, clear lube, his cock jumping at my feel.

"Stop, you're too eager," but the smile on his face contradicts his words.

"Take off your trousers and join me on the bed," sinking into the mattress, he lies face up, hands out to beckon me to him. Quickly, but with unsteady hands, I divest myself and climb into the bed next to him, on my side, breathing labored.

"I'm going to kiss you, put my tongue in your mouth," nudging me on my back, then settling over me, his hand cupping my face, his mouth dipping to mine, biting my lips.  
I open, and his tongue brushes my teeth, my gums. I lay there, overcome with electric sensations flowing over me. Kissing, biting back I drape my arms around his back, pulling him in closer, tighter.

"You're not going to be able to wait much longer," giggling a bit, he lifts up his hips and over to top me, gliding a hand down to find my engorged cock. Curling his hand around, a lance of desire, arousal, creeps up. He locks his cock next to mine and begins an undulating rhythm.

"Yes, yes, do it. Rock into me," his voice thick, moaning along with the twists of his body against mine.

"Shit, shit, oh, yeeessss," and hissing and groaning I erupt, closing my eyes, sparkles everywhere, and explode against our skins, our cocks.  
He lets out a hiss, squirms, and rises and falls with each thrust, each eruption of his come.

Rolling off me, he tangles his fingers in mine, and we lay there, catching our breath.

"Are you happy? Was this okay with you?" asking me. Almost frightened of my answer.

"Oh yes. I want so much more Geoff. Want to learn everything from you. I guess," turning my head to face his,"you could say I'm gay. I loved it."

" You might be. But, you're young yet."

It's a week away from the end of the school year, and mom has told me that I'm moving in with my aunt and uncle for the summer.  
They live closer to the university. Mom feels it's a great chance to get to know the city, to find my way around. All my pleading and crying do no good.

"Why can't I stay here? Hang out for the summer with my friends," I cry to mom.

"Your friends? You have only one Jimmy. And I--well,--," turning her back, washing the dishes. So Mom suspects.

I'm sitting in one of the kitchen chairs, she shuts the water, takes a towel in hand, her expression when facing me is sad.

"Jimmy, I-ah, um, know that--," dropping the towel, she bends to pick it up, with me following suit.

"Mom, I know what you're going to say. Yes, Geoff and I-" her hand on my mouth shutting any response that might add to her discomfort.

"Don't. Don't tell me. Better I don't hear it out loud."  
" No matter what, you are going to Aunt and Uncle's house for the summer. And that's the end of it," putting the rag down, and without finishing cleaning up she walks out.

Running out, my legs carry me to my lovers' house, ringing the bell many times. His dad answers, calling to the back for Geoff.  
He comes out and motions me into his bedroom, sits in his desk chair, a huge grin going across his face.

" Don't know why you're so happy. My parents--,"

"I know all about it. You're leaving here in a week." My eyes pop, my breathing ups a notch.

" You're happy to see me go? You want--?"  
Grabbing me by the waist and setting me on his lap, he tickles me, "of course not. That's life, my friend. But- I have a surprise in store for you. Pack a light kit, and I'll pick you up Thursday morning at your house. We're going away for a few days. And don't worry about your parents. I've already spoken to them."

Practically jumping out of my trainers, I stand on the pavement watching for Geoff's car, my mum yells out the window to have a good time, and I see his car slow up in front of me.

"Couldn't wait huh?" giggling at my obvious excitement, as we pull away.

"I've rented a cottage in Portishead for three days. It's just you and I," looking at me, "oh by the way, did you bring your books with you?"

Dismay written all over me, he lets out a great whoop," just kidding. But boy, it was fun seeing your face! I thought you'd pee in your pants," continuing to break up while my hand tumbles his hair.

Driving up a dirt road, nothing other than a small house up ahead, he pulls up in front and stops.  
I step out of the car, mouth wide open. Encircling the house are large, old trees and vines climbing up the side of the house to the roofline.

"Hey you, come help with the bags,"opening up the boot and throwing four bags and two large brown boxes out.  
I give a questioning look down at the stuff sitting on the ground, and back up at him.  
"I stocked up on food. Won't have to go into the town if we don't want to."

Walking to the door, Geoff has a key in hand, opens the dutch door.

Into a parlor with flowered chairs, a sofa, and tables scattered about. A large screen tv sits in one corner of the room. The smell of fresh flowers wafts from vases sitting on every table.  
Into the kitchen, "We don't even have to worry about kitchenware. This place came fully furnished. Help me put the perishables away," setting foodstuffs on the table.

" Come, let's see our bedroom,"taking me by the hand, we pass the bathroom, with a clawfoot tub.

Next door is the bedroom, roses in ceramic vases sit on the dresser and the nightstands, the aroma a bit cloying. A double bed with a flowered canopy, it gives a Victorian flavor to the room. A fireplace, wood-fired, with logs sitting in the grate.

The next day, after a vigorous bout in bed, a shower, our brunch is eaten at a wooden table and chairs in the backyard.

Sitting against the side of the house are two bikes Geoff has rented.

"You thought of it all, haven't you?"

"Yep, tried to. Let's get lunch together and get out of here."  
Washing up our dishes we fill our backpacks with a lunch of meats and cheeses.

We cycle out onto the bike trails in the wooded area, the air clean, smelling of the unique scent of decomposing leaves, and plants The sun still not sure if it wants to show us it's glory.

Sometimes the trail is only wide enough for one bike, Geoff leading all the time. It's late afternoon by the time we jump off, the sun now out in full.

"Here's a great place to stop. I don't know about you, but my tummy's making noises."

"Me too. And my legs need a rest." A shaded area off the side of the trail, away from any bikers that ride by we spread a blanket out, removing the small feast from the baskets.

Half sitting, half lying I feel a moment of peaceful happiness, the slight breeze murmuring to the steady beat of my desire.

"Come here, you beauty, let me see you naked under the trees," buttons away, unzipped, he unfolds me like a flower.  
And there I lie, in full view of the sky, bare. How can I refuse him?  
My cock tight and full from the moment of the first unfastening, the breeze on my skin cooling the heat of my lust.  
Breathing heavy, hands behind my head, his fingers play a tune up and down, on my chest, stomach and everywhere but my hard, erect, twitching cock.  
The quickness of his breath increases as he removes his clothing, and climbs on top of me.  
Our bodies synchronize, moving together, cocks locked in battle, screaming for release.  
It happens swiftly, the pressure built from being out in the open air, both coming almost in time.

After it's over, I take water from my bottle, some napkins to clean us off and kiss his lips.

"My Geoff, my--"his finger touching my mouth, stopping my words.

"No, don't say that word. Not now, not ever to me. Do you understand?' sitting up and finding his clothes. I lie there, upset. Wanting to ask why. But Geoffs' turned his back, an indication he won't answer.

We visit a beautiful centuries-old estate, climb the point looking out over the estuary to Wales and bike around the coastline.

Leisurely days, with lots of laughing and tumbling in bed. Our limitations to where our clothes come off are confined only by the off chance of being exposed to the world.

Our last day at the cottage, I wake, Geoff has his legs entwined with mine, holding me in his arms, he says," We've never had each other's asses. Would you like to try it?"

"Have you--?"

"Yes, twice," going into the nightstand drawer to pull out condoms and a tube of lubricant.

"I--don't want, no-can't do it. But if you want me to fuck you, I will."  
Dropping both condoms and lube on the floor, he turns on his side, his lips brushing my cheek.

"Let it be," climbing on top and performing a long, luxurious cock suck on me, turning me into mush.

We make breakfast, eggs, sunny side up, pancakes with syrup, and sausage, both wrapped up in the cooking.

"Let's take it to bed," picking up his plate and wiggling his bare backside at me. We've both cooked, naked, giving each other pulls, a lick, a kiss. Our cocks at half mast the whole time.

Setting the plates on the bedstands I watch Geoff, see what mischief he's getting us into.

"Lie down, face up." Leaning over, picking up the egg carefully in his hand he smears the egg on my belly, bending over, humming and licks it up.

"Aha! I can play that game also! Lie on your back," ignoring my now sticky skin. I take a pancake, wrap it around his cock, pour syrup over it and munch, lick and get him to come while still eating the syrupy cake.

"Shit! That was unexpected from you! But, turnaround, you know," taking a pancake, my cock encased in a warm gooey blanket. Life becomes the small area down below between my legs. Sticky from both the food and our semen we lie on the sheet, catching our breaths.

" I don't want to leave here."

"We have to."

"I'll never be with anyone else,"crying on his shoulder.

"No, don't talk like that. You'll find someone at school."

"No, no, it's always going to be you."

"Nonsense. You've got lots of living to do. Besides, I'm moving to France to pursue my studies in classical art." Looking up shocked, "you never told me!"

"I didn't want to spoil this for you, Jimmy. Now let's shower and head back home."

What to say? I want to beg him to take me with him. A few times on the ride back, I open my mouth, waver, then not speak. It's as if he's read my thoughts, the car pulling in front of my house," Sorry, Jimmy but this is the end for us. Kiss me and be on your way."  
"I can't. Don't ask me to let you go," whispering, choking back the tears.  
He steps out of the car, swings the door on my side open, "Sorry. This is how it must be. Don't end it badly, please."  
Dragging, stumbling out, my hand grasps his shirt, pulling him into a deep, tonguing kiss.  
He accepts it, untangles my fingers, thrusting me from him. The car door slams shut, he walks around to get into the drivers' side, and without any display, drives off.  
Taking my heart with him.


	2. Learning About Himself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new environment for Jim. What's Jim's orientation?

I struggle through the first weeks at university with the newness of my environment but I still feel the loss of Geoff.

"Mom, have you seen Geoff?" getting up the courage to ask her while on the phone, mumbling the words out.

"No, but I saw his dad, and he mentioned that Geoff is now in France," a pause," I didn't ask for an address," another pause," are you angry with me?"

"No ma. It's for the best," sort of a relief going through me.

'Yes, Jimmy, time to move along,' I state in my head, dragging my feet across the hall floor.

Derek, my roommate is the opposite of me in looks. Chubby, short and very blonde. Quiet and studious most of the time. It made it easy to be his roomy. Just like me, he has to have his face in the books to keep up his grades.

One quiet evening, weeks into our term, he lets out a string of curses," Fuck, fuck fuck. I'm so sick of books, Jimmy. I need time for me," sitting at the desk, and slamming his book shut.

"Hey, I understand. Honestly, I do. Why don't you take tomorrow evening off? I hear room 115 down the hall is having a little invite. I turned it down, wouldn't ordinarily go. Don't like crowds, but will if you want to get out."

"So you'll go if I do?" swinging around in his seat to see me lying on my bed, books all around me.  
"I already said so," sputtering, understanding his reluctance.

Entering the dorm, besides the two roomies, there are only three others. I expected it to be overflowing, but Landon keeps a small circle.

"Jimmy, good to see you. And who is this?"  
Introducing Derek, Landon nods shakes Derek's hand and begins a conversation, leaving me out.

Shifting over to slump against a wall, a paper cup filled with whiskey from the desk serving as a bar, I watch.

"Hi, there--?" a pony-tailed blonde, ambling up to me, her hand holding a similar cup.

"Hi. It's Jimmy. And your name?" watching her eyes trail down my body.

"Delilah. And no cracks about my name please,"giggling.

"Majoring in?" she takes a step closer to me.

" Law. And you?" my eyes still roaming the room.

"Ancient history. I think the Greek and Roman were way ahead of their time, don't you?" The chitchat stretched out, she's witty and cute, and I spend the evening willingly with her.

I haven't asked Delilah out or try to be alone with her. We keep running into one another. It's she doing the chasing, and I go along, listening to her but not advancing our friendship.

"My room tonight. My roomie is out for the evening," whispering to me, passing each other in the hall.

Much to her and my chagrin, I can't keep my dick up, and with apologies, I leave early. She's very gracious about it, not mocking me but assuring me we can try again.

By mutual consent we both avoid talking about another time together.

'I guess you're most interested in men,' I think to myself.

Derek has found himself a woman and most of his time is spent in her room.


	3. Parents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer break at home

During summer break I'm back at home, working in a grocery store. I miss Geoff. My life is my own. Keeping to the house, work and my books.

Even Mom stays out of my way, letting me do as I wish.

"Da, what are you doing home so early?" sitting on the steps to the house, a slight breeze hitting once in a while to cool the day.

"Nothing much doing at work. I had a notion to come home early and see what my son is up to," one foot on the step below me. I see that Dad is wanting to talk and not knowing where to start.

"Glad you're home. Hey, can you teach me pinochle? It's popular at school, and you know how to play," rising, my book in hand.

"You get some lemonade Mom has in the refrigerator, and I'll get the cards," going inside. Cards are on the table and Dad plunges into the basics of the game.

After seeing that I understand the play, he puts the cards back in the box, leans forward, elbows on the table, "Son, how are you doing?"

"Fine. School is hard, but--." Cutting me off, "No. Not school. I mean-er, ahem, socially." A deep stillness. I understand what my dad is trying not to say, but say at the same time.

"I'm okay with things, I guess," taking his gaze and holding it.

"You know," a hand goes to his fingers, picking at a nail, not glancing my way," at first I was angry, upset, disgusted. But now, I guess whatever is best for you I'm good with."

"Dad, really?" Surprise must be all over my face because he sees it and puts out a hand towards me.

"Yes, my son. I want you to be--oh, you know what I'm saying," my hand going to his to hold.

" Thanks so much." What a comfort! Not having to worry that my parents will shun me.


	4. Louis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new Love. Louis

In a way I'm glad to be back at university and the hubbub of classes. Derek is still my roomie.

"I guess you know that Evie and I broke up," our first evening in our quarters.

"Yea, figured that would be happening," taking a soda pop out of the small refrigerator.

"My parents know that I'm gay and are okay with it."

"Neato. And, Jimmy, glad to see you've accepted it yourself."

I'm playing pinochle, in the rec room and at the next table, I hear a guy is refusing drinks and smokes.

Keeps insisting he doesn't drink, but he does do sex. It's the way he says it that I find alluring. Why mention that he does sex? Is he implying something?

Upon finishing my game I wander over, curious to know more about this man.  
He looks up at me as I peer over his shoulder.

"Hi, I know you're Jimmy, I'm Louis. Bring a chair over and console me on my losses so far."

Swinging a chair over, taking a plastic cup of whiskey, I sit diagonally behind him watching his cards. This table of four is playing seven card stud rummy. And Louis is without a doubt losing.

He's witty, cracking jokes, laughing a lot. And seemingly not afraid to lose large amounts of money. I can't afford that luxury.

I notice a slight scar running from his left ear to almost center of his cheek. It's a pale pink, and from the appearance, it happened a long time ago. His hair is trimmed short, in the military style, a creamy blonde. Short sleeves show thin arms, and there's a roundness encircling his waist.  
'Likes to eat,' I think to myself.

For the next few nights, I have to stay in my room. I'm stuck on my maths, as usual, and that brings up memories of Geoff.

"Jimmy, we need a break. Let's get some tea and see what's happening elsewhere," stretching and pulling me up, Derek slamming my book closed.

Reluctantly I go along to the kitchen and take a cup of tea and biscuits in hand.  
Wandering down the hall, we amble into the game room. A Monopoly game is going on, and I give the nod to them, knowing the players.

At another table, Louis and three others are playing pinochle.

"I'd like to play if you don't mind Derek," my head bobbing in the direction of the card players.

"Go ahead. I'll see if I can drum up something with the guys over there. You go," waving me off.

"Room for another?" I ask, coming up to the table. Louis looks up, amused, "Yeah, have a seat. I'm losing again. I'll bow out," off his seat, moving the chair out so I can take his place.

Standing behind me, his body squeezes close to the back of my chair. Brushing his length against the open backrest, making me aware of his torso, his warmth.

"Okay it's a night for me. I can't lose any more money right now," after about an hour. Louis backs away so I can stand, pivoting close to him.

" See you again," walking away, feeling a strange sense of something. There's a certain allure about Louis.

When next we meet it's again at the pinochle table. This time he spots me as I come in and calls me over.

"Pull up a chair and join us," sliding his over, winding up sitting next to him.

I'm concentrating on the cards I've been dealt, at the same time Louis has his hand on my thigh, stroking lightly. I twist my head, seeing him lick his lips.

'Shit! He's coming on to me,' I think, my surprise registering on my face, while his hand moves up to the vee of my trousers. Gripping me, he turns to continue his game, both hands off me, visible on the table.

Half an hour later he pushes away, standing up, "Guys, I'm done. Wiped out for now. I'll be going," pausing, as if he just notices I'm still there, "Jim, how about some tea? Fancy some biscuits also?"

"Why not!" throwing the cards down, saying goodnight to the others and following behind him as we exit the common area.

" My room. I have no roomies," walking to the elevator, not interested in whether I'm trailing after him or not.  
"What happened to the tea and biscuits?" anxiety pressing me. Snorting, he ignores me. What is all this supposed to mean?

The elevator doors close, he's shoving me against the wall, thrusting his hips against mine, his bulge making itself known. His lips tearing at mine.  
Breaking away, he fixes himself, and we walk out into the hall and his dorm room.  
He keys it open, holds it for me to enter.  
I hesitate, unsure, knowing what I'm in for and do I want this, this whatever.

Once in, the first thing that I see is the bookcases stacked with videos. Standing stock still In the middle of the small space, I gape at them, not moving.

"I have a greater collection at home. But you'll see classics, science fiction, drama, and even porn over there."

On the one remaining clear wall is a forty-two-inch tv with a video box. A desk, chair, and bed manage to fit into this space.

"What do you want, Jim? A quick shag, or some fun time."

" Louis, I don't want a shag. But, how did you know-?"

" Oh, come off it! You've been interested in me almost from the day we met." Turning to face the tv, "I can spot a gay immediately. You're not open about it, and you're not a skirt chaser. And like me, you don't openly announce your preference. I must admit to watching you in the classes we have together. We share in maths and English Lit."  
"I'm sorry. I guess I didn't notice you," flustered.  
"Why do you keep lying to me? You've not played this game much have you?" sitting on the bed, unbuttoning his shirt and loosening his belt.  
"No. Sorry. And yes, I have noticed you," my head hanging down, twisting away so as not to watch him.  
"Okay. I'm not going to push this. I'll stop," and he walks to me, placing a hand on my shoulder, turning me to face him.

"Why not go to your room. If you want me, I'll be available. Anytime."

"I'd like to stay if you don't mind."  
He grins, shuffles back to the bed, and beckons me over.  
I take a seat next to him, my hands fumbling to the sheets, to my knees.

" You come across as such an innocent. You've had a man before though. Am I right?"

I nod, "yes. Began when I was sixteen. He left after I graduated school. He--did wonderful things with me, with my consent of course."

"Then why the shy approach?"  
"He- He was my only. And I've not been with anyone since. Not sure how to act."  
" Don't you find me attractive? Why are you here if not for that reason?"  
"Yes, yes, I do Louis. But-" not sure what else to say to him.

Off the bed his knees between my legs, he leans down to me with a brief kiss, "Get up. I want you to leave now. Think about it. Oh, I'm not one for 'dating' if that's what you are contemplating. Either come to my bed or not."  
With that statement, I rise, "Please, let me be here with you," almost pleading.

"Well, then, Jim, come kiss me. Let me wrap my tongue in your mouth," giving him what he wants, as a warmth envelops me.

Drawing me back down to the bed, he lies on his side, staring down at me, a finger tracing patterns on my cheek," Don't worry my dear. I'll treat you fairly."  
Without warning he sits up on his knees, leaning in to take a bite on my ear, my neck, and folding my bottom lip he worries it.  
I try to unbutton my shirt, but he stops me,"let me have the honor. I'm going to unwrap you like a present, and eat up all the goodies inside."  
Button after button, all the while his eyes never leave my face.  
It's so seductive, to have him watching, my breath hitching up, still feeling the heat climbing in my body.

And then his tongue, oh that tongue, down to my nipples, and in a singsong voice, "I'm gonna suck you dry," as he envelops my nubs with his teeth, nipping, bathing those tips until they stand up.

"Pink, like the color of your cheeks right now," and I flush deeper if that's at all possible.

Zipper down, trousers spread open, I feel the warmth of his breath on my red cotton pants," yes, yes, more," undulating into him.  
Down, down go those clothes holding in my cock, over my knees and ankles and onto the floor.

"Pink like your cheeks are," he stares, my cock tingling, vibrating at his intense scrutiny.

Spreading my legs wide, he lays stomach down, bathing my thighs with his tongue, biting, sucking at the inner thigh.  
To my toes, inhaling each in turn.

"Oh God, oh, stop," whirling, losing control.

"Ever had your toes suckled?" not a question I can answer at this moment. My brain is all down there, in my toes.

One by one, he finds a digit, and each is drawn in as if an expensive succulent, a prize given to him.

Looking up at me, "Jim, on the nightstand is a tube of lube. Hand it to me?"  
I reach over, he takes it,"I'm going to finger fuck you. Use one finger only.

"Okay, with you?"  
Hesitating, my head nods yes. Not sure whether my shaking is my fright or excitement.

I'm taken by surprise when his mouth covers my cock in one gulp.  
A deep inhale and a gasp of breath being let out, I feel it up and down my spine.  
Surrendering to the stroking of his mouth, darting up and down, overcome with his plunging on my now wet cock, I feel wetness around my nub hole. His finger, lubed, traces, encircles the entrance.

"Do it, do it," I cry out, pushing, urging.

" Arg, ah," the finger making an entrance, widening it.

Down into my cavity, it goes, plunging, twisting. It's too much. I writhe, call out," I'mmm commming," deep in his mouth, over and over the thrusting, heaving, spending it all in great massive bursts.

I don't notice his finger is out of my hole, don't notice he's lying next to me, don't care about any of it.  
But I soon know that I have to do for him. Sitting up to undress him," No, not now. Lie back and enjoy this moment. We'll have plenty others."

We attend parties together, his arm always around me, coaxing me out of myself. My shyness is disappearing under his watchful eyes.

" We have an interesting place to go to tomorrow night," sitting under one of the many trees around the campus. We've finished all our paperwork and now holding hands enjoying one of the few nice days we have had.

"A friend of mine, an artist is having two of his paintings displayed in an art show. I figured we'd have an evening out."

"Oh? Well, I'm not that--"

"Stop! Don't do that! Don't tell me you don't know about art. Just go and look at the drawings and get what you can out of them," deeply annoyed.

"Okay, okay, I'll go," reluctant but always willing to go along with his ideas.

I'm introduced to the artist, Jackson Grosse and without a word to me moves to another circle of people, leaving me on my own. Again the shyness hits me.  
A bar and a table with hors-d'oeuvres nearby, I maneuver around the bunch of people, to pick a plate and fill it with small sandwiches, and lean against the wall near the bar.

In what seems an eternity, Louis strides over his arm around a petite older woman, a man whose grey hair is sticking out like branches on a tree. Both well-dressed with gold jewelry adorning themselves.

"Jimmy, this is the owners of this establishment, Martha and William Harrison," dislodging his arm, his gaze off to the rest of the people milling about and without excuses joins them.

"Do you like art, Mister--?" eyebrows raised, waiting for me to help him.

"It's Jim. And I confess to not knowing much about it. Although I like the work that Mister Grosse has done. I like landscapes, it seems."

"Martha, why don't you mingle and let me give Jim a tour of the room and it's paintings."

"Thank you so much," casually manipulating me towards one of the walls of paintings.

Conversation with Mister Harrison flows, his explaining each painting and his way of asking questions, gives me the confidence express my thoughts on them .

"I see you made a real friend in William," in the taxi on the way back to the school grounds.

"Yes, he made everything about art so easy to understand."

"Good. I left you alone on purpose. Wanted to see how you'd fare. You see, my dear, you can hold your own in any situation," patting my thigh, mischievously gripping my slight hump,"any situation."

Spring break. What to do? I don't want to ask, beg Louis to stay at school for the two weeks. But oh, how I fancy it!

"Three more weeks until spring break,"Louis states, us lying in his bed after a rousing bout of sex," what are you doing? Going home?"  
"No," playing with the hairs on his chest," staying here. And you?"  
"I was hoping you'd say you were going to stay. Then so am I," tickling under my arms, getting a laugh out of me.  
"Jim," stopping, sitting, one of his, 'I'm getting serious now,' looks," I have a thing for you," turning his head away, "actually wrong way to put it."

" I know what it is. And I also love you," finding his mouth and speckling kisses over it.  
"I love you, love you, love you, you silly hunk of man," at which we tumble over each other, laughing until our giggles turn to thick breathing.


	5. Jim and Drugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The money fascinates Jim. Drags him in.  
> Does he tell Louis?

My first encounter with cocaine is in my senior year. I don't let on to Louis that I am giving it a try. He'd be furious.

But I have nothing to worry about because I dislike it, throwing up, sick for two days. I tell Louis it must have been the food I ate.

It was Arturo that gave me the free teens packet, slang for 1.75 grams of cocaine.

I undertake a closer scrutiny of this illegal commerce. Noticing quite easily those who are dealing. The money they throw around.

For a while, I think that Louis is involved but his parents have given him a generous allowance and that's where his money comes from.

I want to break into this industry if you can call it that for reasons of pure, unadulterated greed. I wish for more than a 'job.' I want fancy clothes, a fast car, the ability to pay for anything. There's also my parents who need to have some luxuries in their lives.

Hunting around for Arturo, asking his roommate, he's found in the library, and I beckon him out.

"I'd like to start selling, How do I go about it?"

"You have to speak to my boss Mike. He's our school pusher. He's in our biology class."  
" I know him. I'll approach him on my own."

"Oh, tell him I gave the high five. He'll understand."

It took two days to get Mike alone and to give him Arturo's response. He told me to meet him in his room that night. I was extremely edgy. Didn't want Louis asking questions about my absence. Had no idea how long this would take.  
"You're not a user, Arturo told me."  
Nodding my agreement, he motions for me to sit, brushing off the trousers on the chair onto the floor, his side of the dorm a bloody mess, books, clothing is strewn all over.  
"Here's how I work. I give you three packs, teenies--"  
"I know the language. Looked it up online," both of us grinning widely.  
"You have to stay out of both my and Arturo's territories. We'll let you know when you're stepping on our toes," removing a pair of jeans from his closet and handing me three white bags.

"The bags cost you 40 pounds each."  
My eyes widen, and I'm ready to ask questions when he stops me by raising his hand slightly.  
"Hey, this is not the best stuff! There's better out there, but much harder to get and believe me, more expensive."  
"I never realized. Oh, I know it's a big deal but actually comprehending it? That people spend that much on this stuff?"  
" You'd be surprised. Lots of hard cash to be made out there if you want."  
"Where do you get your stuff from?"

"Sorry, mate. I don't tell."

Standing and opening his door, "When you need more give me a tap on my right shoulder, and I'll tell you when to come visit me."  
Handing me the three I pay him and leave. It takes two days to get rid of them, and I'm back for more.

My new found confidence holds me good. Learning who and when to talk to, and how and when to bring out the bags.

I continue to build a small business, and Mike is pleased with the progress.

It's hard not opening my mouth to Louis. I want to brag to him, to show him, but that's not a happening.


	6. Louis Knows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does Louis do now that he knows about Jim's dealings

My studies at university mean nothing now. Don't need it. But I decide to finish studying law mainly to please my parents and Louis.  
By mid-term of my last year, I'm doing very well. It's becoming harder to withhold my extracurricular business dealing from my lover. He occasionally asks questions about my extravagant spending habits, but I waylay it by explaining that a favorite uncle of mine is wiring me money.

I've just finished a transaction with Mike, stopped at my dorm door, hand on the knob, hand off the knob, down the hall to Louis' room and open the door.

He looks up, his face flushing deep red, eyes flashing, springing to me, at me.

"You fucking son of a bitch," his fists pounding into my stomach and chest relentlessly.  
Trying to push him away, his anger so dark, I can't stop him and doubling over, down on my knees," stop, you're hurting me," barely able to talk.

"Nothing to what you've--done to me, you-you. You've lied to me-- all this time, fucking lied," hearing him break down, whimpering. He falls to the floor, on his knees, his arms around me, head buried in my shoulder.  
"What did I do, what---?" I know, I know and it's breaking me. This is it, Jim, you've done the worst you can do to your love.

Shoving himself away from me, upright, his back to me, "you're dealing cocaine. Dealing! Keeping addicts! Making money off of that filth", his voice, angry but dissolving into tears again. On my feet, my arms wrapping around my mid-section, my stomach still raw, I wait.

" Get out. I don't want to be near you, you, you shit " turning to face me, his arm straight out pointing towards the door," get the fuck out," and turns away, muffled sobs under his cupped hands.  
"How did you- find out?" No answer, just the sounds of his sorrow, echoing as I back out. Into my room, understanding I've lost something precious.

Was this all worth it? Head buried in my pillow; I sob myself dry.

I write a note the next morning asking him to forgive me, take me back. Slipping it under his door.

Give up the dealing

a text from him.

I can't. I'm in too deep. The rewards too great.

At the graduation ceremony I purposely seek out Louis. Our friends encircle him. Moving up close to them, they're indicating I'm behind him, whispering my name. He keeps his back to me. Nothing I can do anymore. I'm on my own.


	7. Little Cock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nickname for Jim

I have a job waiting for me when I graduate, working in a small law firm with two older lawyers. Of course, in the beginning, I'm mainly a paper pusher. Occasionally getting to join one of them in court. It's boring, stifling. But a good cover for my actual money-making profession.

In six months I've become a hard-nosed competitor in the local drug ring. The drug lord, Osgood, has heard of me through the other dealers and one day I'm called to his office. He's a fantastic lawyer who I've met many a time in the courtroom. Well known and well placed. Osgood is not one to be taken lightly. Whether in the courtroom or within his organization.

"Sit down young man. You've made quite a reputation for yourself," taking a cigar out of the humidor and offering me one. I refuse, and he lights his with the gold, filigree lighter as big as an apple. His hands folded in front of his pot-bellied custom-made brown pinstripe suit, he studies me, while leaning back on his desk, chubby fingers playing with a pencil. I don't give an inch, giving him as hard a stare as he gives out.

"What is it you're looking for, young man? And don't give me any bull shit!"

"If you must know, your job. And not as a lawyer either." He guffaws, his belly shaking, and his free hand going to cover his mouth. Stuffing his cigar in his mouth, he puffs a few, focuses on me intently, then up and rounds behind me and grasps my shoulders, one hand still holding the cigar.

"Ambitious little cock aren't you? And forthright too," the fingers of the one free hand digging into my scapula. I have to take a deep breath to alleviate the pain he's causing, but I don't move away.

"Brave little cock," back to face me, blowing smoke into my face, my having to choke on it. Behind his desk he sits, rocking back in his chair, the cigar snuffed out with his tapping it in an ashtray.

"You're the type I need to keep an eye on at all times. And what do they say, keep your friends close and your enemies closer? Guess that's what I'll have to do. Right?"  
Sitting up straight,"Oh no sir. I'm not your enemy. I have no desire to see you dead. At least by my hand. But someday--" His head goes back; his laughter is loud, raucous.

"Yes, someday I'll be dead, and one James Moriarty intends to step into my shoes," his mirth gone into chuckles.

"Well, my little cock, here's what I'm willing to do. You'll continue your rise in the ranks, but this time I'll be behind you, assisting. I like your drive. Your cockiness."

"Sir, if I may be bold--"

"And you will be."

" I would like a bigger piece of the pie. I want the whole London Bridge area. I already control most of it."

"And my young friend, I know that won't be the end of your unfulfilled ambition. Well, give me a few weeks, and you've got it.

"Now," out of his chair and placing a hand on my shoulder, this time gently, "get out of here and go celebrate. Have a good fuck. Oh yes, I know. You're gay. Enjoy his ass, whoever you choose," that booming laugh of his vibrating off the walls, and going to the door to see me out.

The big man's one-story sprawling brick house is on the outskirts of London. A black iron fence, the height of it making entrance difficult without entering the gate. I give my name to the suited guard, the gate opens to a circular driveway. Off to the left is a stable, where I can hear horses whinnying.

A valet opens the door, and to the large entryway, Victorian furniture, all stuffed and plush. Scenes of the countryside or horses running wild adorn the walls.  
The entranceway gives the feeling of clutter, expensive well thought out.

"Jim, my wife Annabel," bowing to her, she shakes my hand. A surprisingly thin, well-groomed woman. I would have expected someone the same circumference as Osgood.

" Annabell cooked tonight, it's simple English fare. Most of the time we have a personal chef."

"I hope you enjoy the meal, Jim," she takes my arm, patting me lightly, walks me into the dining room.  
"I love cooking, but Osgood insists we have a chef. Although I must admit, I steal his recipes every chance I can get," which elicits a high rumbling guffaw out of the big man.

Our talk stays within the weather, the state of affairs in the world. Giving Annabel every chance to speak I can tell he genuinely loves her.

"Ah, great food, as usual, my dear," patting his stomach, up out of his seat and motioning for me to join him in the parlor.

"I'll be in the tv room if you need anything dear. And so nice to meet you, Jim. I hope you visit more often," removing herself from our presence.

"Annabel gets bored with my guests. She says they all talk politics and business. But I think you surprised her. You are quite a man, little cock."

I'm handed a glass of whiskey and offered a seat in a comfortable worn dark green flowered armchair. Warmth comes from a gas fireplace, a spinet piano off in the corner. The walls filled with travel mementos, pictures of the two of them in the locations.

Settling back in his green upholstered rocker, loosening his belt, gasping, he studies me.

"I know what you're craving Jimmy. You're looking for the high life," waving his arm around, "right?"

"I was thinking that thought over dinner. Yes."

"Big cars, fancy home, the best asses you can get your cock into. That's your idea of living. Well, let me tell you, little cock, you have to be very careful. You're going to raise red flags."

"I know, I know. But, Osgood, I want it. Even if I eventually go down, it's going to be worth it." He can hear the intoxication, the thrill of it in my voice, pitched higher.

"So any advice I give you will be down the toilet, am I right?"

"Sorry, Osgood, but this is who I am."

"Before you leave, little cock. I am offering you a chance to pull out of the drug business. Would you like placement in my office as a real lawyer?" My head bounces up, "what if I want that and to persevere as one of your lieutenants?" Lighting a cigar, "Damn, you are a sharp one! You're thinking cover up like I do. Using the law business." A couple of pulls on the cigar, blowing up into the air, "Okay, you have a deal. You know where you want to go and one way or another you're going to have it."

Within three weeks I have a desk at Osgoods' firm, and he takes me under his wing.

I have dinners at his house, play cards with his buddies, both drug kingpins, and lawyers. All in all, I like the man. He's very straight up.

I'm getting myself coffee and a sandwich. It's lunch, and I've come from the court, heading back to the office when my phone rings.

"Jim," my secretary at work, Vicky, crying, " Osgood's dead. Police got him. Don't go home. Get out of town now." Giving me a quick rundown of events.

I jump into the nearest taxi, to the train station and to the south of England.

Losing all contact with anyone in the firm, I assume a different name, the documents got via my underground.

Renting a suite in a hotel I stay for a year, capitalizing on it by opening up new channels with the drug barons in the surrounding areas.


	8. A New Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone new gets bumped into by Jim

Back in London again, and back to my own name, I don't need to worry about being taken in by the police.

To play it safe I've opened my own law office. It's small, having two employees and my secretary. I keep an office space for myself, where I spend a minimum amount taking on minor cases.

Most of my money is coming in from the drug business.

Entering my house after the year away, I chuckle to see nothing has changed. Why that's a surprise to me, I don't know.

I've kept up payments on the utilities and mortgage.

Opening the refrigerator, I gag. Taking a large trash bag, I scoop everything up and run it outside to the bin. "Ugh, Jim, have to go shopping", saying it out loud.

Wheeling the cart in the supermarket, no list, going off the top of my head, my basket is, by this time, quite full.

I stop to look at the cheeses, pick out Brie and Havarti, push the trolley ahead, my head turned, not looking, and my cart is stopped by a body. Bumped into someone, I did. He's grabbed his ankle and is hopping up and down, slightly faced away from me. I do what anyone would by saying, "So, so sorry, mate. My fault."

"It certainly is, you blundering idiot!"

"Now wait. I didn't do this on purpose, you know," aggravated at his tone.  
He straightens up, his face contorted in pain, and our eyes meet.  
In those moments the earth stops rotating. Both of us are overpowered by inertia, not willing to tear away, not able to. My fists curled tightly around the cart handle, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Urm, the bluntness on my part. The customary way I--," his hand stiffly out to shake mine," Sherlock Holmes."

"Jim Moriarty. Nice to meet you," the sarcasm involuntarily dripping from my mouth at the same time as the draw to him is pulling.

He abruptly withdraws his hand, pushes past me.  
" Wait," grabbing this mans sleeve, not willing to let him go, "Why not let me, um, buy you a drink? Tonight? voice softening, begging? Thinking, 'Jim, you're acting like an eager schoolboy, rushing to date the prettiest girl before anyone else gets to her.'

"Why would I imbibe with such as you?" the sneer evident.

"I'm sorry. Please forgive me and allow me to offer you some kindness. I hope you are not hurt badly," considering myself a fool. Why keep this man here? Other than the fact he's tall, knock-out dazzling, dark curly hair flowing almost to his shoulders. Yea, why keep him around!

"Humph. A mere scratch," eyes again meeting mine.

"I would approve of tomorrow night. Hotel nearby. The Victoria, superb wine collection," his clipped sentences in a bass tone, rumbling deeply.

"I know- yea, -the place. I, ah, love wine. How about, erm, eight?" Oh, Jim, you're acting like a juvenile, tripping over words.

Uncurling my fingers from his sleeve, he puts one hand in his pocket, takes out his phone.

" My number. Text if you are not available."  
Not available? It would take an earthquake, an asteroid hitting the earth before I'd stand this man up! A salute to his head with long, slim fingers, he walks away, as I gawk, mouth open, watching until he disappears.

I continue my shopping. Or at least I try.  
Let's see, I think, his eyes were green, no hazel. I didn't have to look down at him, same height as myself, sharp facial features. Now that was it! Beautiful!


	9. Forming a Relationship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Sherlock find some compatibility. Even if it's tenuous.

This man, this angel has me captivated. All day I visualize his face. At night, lying on the couch, I turn on a porn flick, pull down my PJ bottoms. I fist my swollen cock, imitating the swift massaging motion on the screen in front of me.

"Shit, shit. Gonna fuck you," upstroke," suck your cock," up and down strokes," eat your balls," my other hand fumbling my bollocks," watch you come," rising, squirming. With the last pull, my cock gives out its juices, over my hand and stomach. My vision is blurred, but in my head, it's Sherlock leaning over me, wiping me off, his lips covered in my white froth.

The lobby is crowded, the patrons scurrying around. Sherlock is near the front desk, and he brightens when he sees me, striding, long steps on those long legs, to shake hands.  
To a table off in the corner of the dining room where a full window shows off the light raindrops dribbling down. The place is colored in dark greens and light browns, giving off a warm ambiance. Green plants are its main feature scattered all around. Most are large floor-standing pots, all greens. The air stirs from the heat vents giving a coziness to it all.

"Sherlock, would you like to try one of the sparkling wines?"

"Brut Rose? A good choice?"  
"Love the idea. How about pastries to go with it?"

"I try to avoid sweets. But--in this instance, an exception can be made." The waiter brings the wine and a plate of cream puff delicacies. We sit, quietly assessing one another. I raise my glass, "To an unusual meeting and a continuation."

Clinking glasses, taking a sip I can feel the depth of his eyes, boring into me. There's a strong pull, a string, tugging us towards one another.

"Do we do the usual and ask about our personal lives?"I ask frankly.

"Mister Moriarty, that is a significant statement indeed. Let us be anonymous to each other. All we will know is what we are now conscious of."

My stomach churns, my heart gives a jump. He could be the most exciting man I've met since my teens.

Drinking slowly my eyes take in this man. He's wearing a silk shirt, green, top two buttons undone, giving a look at a neck ripe for marking. There is money in this family. From his speech, well educated.

His drink finished he gets up, "goodbye Mister Moriarty," his walk to the door a short one. Throwing money on the table I light after him.

"Can't leave that easy," clutching at his arm, stopping his further movement. Glaring at me, " You cannot dictate the moment of my departure. Let me go, " Those very long fingers grasping mine, trying to undo my hold.

" Please, please, I can't lose you- can't, " why the fuck, a grown man begging. His face turns his hand shifts away from my grip, talking to the air.

"Don't understand your quick obsession with me. I admit there's-", at which he sighs, his head twisting to eye me.

"I know you feel it. This thing between us. Don't go without exploring it, please Sherlock," wanting to go to my knees to humble myself.

"I'll consider--," his long legs propel him away and out of sight before I can say more.

Devastated, bumbling through the next three days, hoping, waiting for my phone to beep. I don't, no I'm afraid to text or call. Afraid he'll reject me. But--isn't that what he's doing?

In my office, Jason, casually edges his rear on my desk and bluntly asks me,"love life gone awry? You've been in a shit mood today."  
I don't know why, maybe out of sheer frustration; I tell my silly tale to him.  
Hearing the name Sherlock Holmes, his jaw drops.

"You have to be kidding? You don't know about him?"

"Clue me in please,"

"The man is called a consulting detective, the only one in the world. The police use him constantly to solve crimes they can't handle. He's a genius, but also the coldest, brusque man known."

Back to his desk, calling over his shoulder,"forget him. He'll never contact you. You're better off."

It's no use. I can't forget him, can't let go.

Sherlock, answer my text. Tell me you were hit between the eyes like I was. Say something.

Within three hours, my phone sitting next to the brief I'm reading, out to answer it immediately, a text rolls in.

Forget me. Romance is not an option SH.

Not what I asked. Were you affected by our meeting also

No comeback. At night the phone rests on my bed, no sound from it, finally shutting my eyes, sleep overtaking me.

Yes SH

Pulling me up from a sound sleep, jumping to see his answer. A look at the clock says its five am.

I have tomorrow off. meet. no talk of personal. just meet

It's mid-afternoon before a reply. I'm eating a late lunch in a small cafe, phone next to my teacup.

museum has a new exhibit of Greek and Roman statues. Would that suit your taste? dinner in the evening SH

My skin tingles, my heart rate jumps.

If convenient come, if unconvenient come anyway. At noon on the steps of the museum SH

Sherlock approaches the steps of the museum. I've been pacing up and down the marble steps for an hour. My body responds, leaning towards him. His hand reaches out to touch my arm. We walk into the museum, each paying for his way, and over to the area where the statues are.

" I have an extensive knowledge of Greek and Roman history," turning down the docent with a wave of his hand, distaste evident. Listening to his deep voice, inhaling his cologne, I soak him up. His recital of the epic moments from the past make it come alive.

"The museum is closing, Sherlock", looking at my watch, my tummy rumbling," and to be honest, I'm hungry."

" Food it is then," those long legs have me going two steps to his one. My eyes trained on his luscious backside.

Both of us agree on Japanese food and the restaurant we pick is a street away. While walking I move close, my body bumping his.

"What do you like to eat? Sushi, sashimi or rolls? Personally, I enjoy the rolls, the wider and longer the better," turning his head away, my thinking about the double entendre.

Oh God, how am I going to get through this meal!

No noise other than our chewing, the chopsticks tapping on the plates, can be heard at our table.

I'm not able to think of anything other than the hardness that's between my legs. Constant, aching.

Our meal is over and his eyes, those brilliant, hazel-green orbs shine at me.

"My dear Jim. The night is not over, yet," the voice, now deep, resonating, "hotel?" Incredulous, voice pitched high, "now?"

"Is there another night more conducive to this, this hit between the eyes, as you so well declared." Holy shit! My cock rises another notch.

"If you insist," my voice cracking. He laughs," there's a hotel down the street." His pace quick, I trot to keep up. Door open, signing in, keying the room and entering. Pulling him to me, I grasp his shirt, tugging.

"Now, now, Jim. Have some care," inching my fingers off his silk blue shirt. He's meticulous about taking off his clothes. I want to jump him, rip them off, to feel him touching me.

"God, I want to taste you! Your prick, your body, your lips," first to be on the bed, naked. We roll over each other, tasting, feeling, kissing, squirming. Sliding down his tight, slim shape, his cock comes into my view. His tip, his glans, I roll my tongue over it.

"I'm taking you in my mouth, to gulp it down,"tasting with my lips of that pink tip, shivering by my face.

"Ohhhhh, do, yes," heady with mounting arousal. Overcome with the need to taste, to suckle him, I engulf his throbbing, stiff cock, down, down. His hips twitch, quiver, one fist banging down on the bed, head side to side.

"Take it, take it," erupts from him, a fist in his mouth biting.

"Your balls, big, sucking big," working one between my lips, rolling it, then up his shaft with my tongue, teasing it, One hand cupping his bundle, his soft round globe, the other twisting on his long, now fragrant cock, pre-come sliding down. His breath hitching, trunk fluttering up and down, twisting side to side.

"Take me, ahh, take me," his hips rising to meet my mouth coming down, absorbing him with lips and tongue.  
My fingers are feathering, teasing his balls, another finger inches down his ass crack. Surging up, undulating, "Ohh, pleeaase," his whispered begging, surrendering.  
Feeling the little hole with my finger lingering, taunting, teasing with an inch inserted.  
He bucks,"I'm going to come, help me, I-."  
His come erupts into my mouth, salty, sticky. I gag and swallow, holding him with my cheeks as his spasming continues, licking up. Twitching long after his liquid squeezes out, I lift up.  
My tongue darting into his mouth, his still warm come, his taste of himself.

His breathing slows, he turns to top me, his hands on my cheeks, mouth pressing on mine, tongue onto my neck, my ear, nibbling at my lobe, tongue insistent, sliding down, over my collarbone, down to my tiny red nipples. Teeth biting, nipping. My belly button gets a tongue lashing,  
I giggle, and he moves his mouth over my pubic hair.  
To my stiff, flicking cock.

"Darker than mine, but so lickable," he observes."

Wetting me with his tongue my cock leaking pre-come, his mouth over my tip, I bounce up to find more of him.  
My pulsing, shaft tight with my come, holding back.  
Hissing, body rocking, hips climbing. His mouth covers my cock; my come pouring out.

Letting it dribble down my pulsating shaft he licks it up, over my balls, between my ass crack.

Slowing down our movements, we're entangled, bodies twisted, not knowing whose arms, legs, mouths belong to whom.

The open balcony doors bring in the warm breeze and floating on that breeze is a melody. A song heard from another room.

_for all we know we may never meet again. Before you go_

 

 _Make this moment sweet again_  
_We won't say goodnight_  
_Until the last minute_  


" Never let this end, Sherlock," my voice misty with our aftermath.  
" Never, never my sweet Jim."


	10. In Steps A Do-Gooder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft gives his opinion

My brother Mycroft is an ass. Never having given him a house key he always manages to unlock the door and enter, not even knocking.

Dropping a manila folder on my coffee table, or throwing might be a better way of saying it.  
Mycroft is his usual self, dressed as always in a three-piece suit, tight-lipped, standing upright, his comportment stiff, unyielding.  
I'm at the window, staring out. Anything better than his unforgiving bearing. Knowing what's about to take place.

"You know about 'him"?" he snidely says, refusing to let his name cross his lips.

Sighing deeply, my arms crossed, the outside world not noticed, can't face him,"Yes, of course, I do. He's a drug lord. Highly placed."

"Sherlock, I could have him brought in--"

" Don't you dare," stepping away from the window, closing in on my brother, my voice octaves down.

"So he's becomes your source--"

"Stop jumping to your conclusions. I've been clean for years, and you know very well. You're a prick, indeed."

"Then, what is this attraction?" within each others space, almost feeling his breath on my face.

"Something you wouldn't understand."

"Try me," daring me to articulate out loud that which I haven't attempted. At least not yet.

"Love. Simple love."  
He chokes, literally chokes, clearing his throat, "sentiment, Sherlock, sentiment."

"You've known this 'person' two months," his lips purse together.

" I'm not a fool, Mycroft. I know it can't last. But he's taken my heart. Not since university--"

"Why of all people, why him?"

"I didn't walk into this presuming this would transpire. It happened, fell out of the sky, boom, " my arms lifting and slashing down.

"This is not a matter to joke about, my brother. It can't end well," his head hanging, sighing.

" I know that Mycroft. Now if you'll let me run my life and see this to its conclusion-?"

"I can only hold off the inevitable so long," he pronounces with a note of sadness.

"I know and appreciate your concern. But, I'm in too deep now," my back again to him.

Mycroft picks the folder up and slowly walks out closing the door gently.

'Sherlock, you're time with Jim is limited.'But I've got to live it to the fullest,' with a deep sigh and a longing never before felt.

Taking out my phone, texting.

must feast my eyes on you

not as much as I want to. Back in town Tuesday. Same hotel. Five


	11. For the Last Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Sherlock have one more rendezvous.

Our rendezvous meetings are sporadic. Most of the time spent texting or listening to our voices through a mobile phone. Never inquiring what the other does for a living, or where we live.

"Jim darling, we must--." the phone kissing my lips.

"Sherlock, I know you wish for more contact--," my silence so long he must feel I'm not there.

"Jim?"

"yes, yes. we must--tonight.Ten at Victoria Hotel."

It seems late but anytime we can be together is a bonus.

At the desk I'm handed the key and told he's in the room already.

Keying the door open there's a soft luminosity, the glow from at least three dozen candles sitting on the top of any space available.

And lying on the bed, strewn with petals of white lilies is a most beautiful sight. His curls splayed out on the red silk pillow, his nudeness hidden strategically with more of the lilies.  
His eyes are staring up at the ceiling and in that sonorous resounding voice, "my petals are yours to pluck."  
Oh God, can't get my duds off fast enough! Thrown haphazardly on the floor, I advance, breath and cock fully strained.  
I admire his fair, ghostly, sensual flesh, the slender fingers, cheekbones sharply defined, lips bow-like, cheeks flush with anticipation.

"Sherlock, my Sherlock," my knees weak, desire flickering, desire exploding.  
Kneeling on the lustrous crimson surface I float my fingers over his chest, the petals smoothing over the surface of the skin.  
He's humming, his body quivering to my touch sliding down his stomach, and the scent of the candles and flower petals permeating our senses.  
The white petals have been swept off his vertical shaft settling mainly on his scrotum and thighs, glistening with his sticky pre-come.  
Without constraint, overcome by his brazenness I move up over him, laying myself down, pressing myself against him.  
Our loins thrust and surge, cocks coiling around each other, contracting, peaking, spasming liquids.  
Rolling off, him we hold hands, letting our moment last.

" Being practical we better distinguish the candles before we fall asleep," my satiated companion states, the murmur low and airy.  
Rising, blowing the candles out, the scent still in the air we retire to the soft comfort of the bed and sink into the haze of afterglow.

By now I know Sherlock is aware of my trafficking, and I am aware of his 'high in government office' brother.

Why I haven't been caught by now, thrown into prison, is beyond me!

One beautiful spring day, Sherlock and I are wandering in the botanical gardens. Walking next to him I'm fidgeting with my watch, my ring, every nerve on edge. Don't know how to explain to him what distresses me.

"What's wrong, Jim? Every fragment of your being is screaming."

"Sherlock, it's time for me --"

"Oh that! Jim, I've known for quite some time. Don't have to articulate it." Halting both of us by stepping in front of him,"can't we discuss this? I need to get it off my chest."  
"If you insist. My flat is close by," and before I can utter a word we're in a taxi.

Pouring a small glass of whiskey for each us, deciding not the sofa I chose an armchair. He acknowledges with a smirk, and plops on the sofa.  
"Find it difficult to be close to me now?" his head down, glass beating a slight drumming on his knee.

I'm having difficulty swallowing; my glass held tight to hide the shaking of my hands.

The quiet is ominous, having decided to let him begin I wait.

Finally looking up, his eyes glistening with tears, a quick swallow of his whiskey and a deep draw in of breath and a deep draw out of breath.

"Jim, dear Jim. It's been a short while. You've become everything to me. I'm having to- no wanting to-no-," his forehead furrowed, lower lip trembling.

"Let me guess. You're going, closing our affair," stifling my tears, even though this is the exact decision I've reached.

"I know, have known since early in our meeting what your occupation is. My brother Mycroft,--"

"I know of him and his inquiry into my life. One of my lieutenants found out," my head down, afraid to hear what will be next.

"You want to leave me, don't you Sherlock, to get away from my illegal life--."  
Sharply looking up, eyes wide, mouth open, "No, no. Where did you get that crazy idea? James, James, I'm in love with you," he blurts out. Now it's my turn to register surprise and joy.

Bouncing up, sitting on my lover's lap, his head leaning back, cheeks enclosed in the palm of my hands, kissing nose, cheek, lips. He kisses back.

My tears flowing, "you, you, wonderful you. I love you too!"

He wipes my tears gently with his thumbs.

"This cannot end well Sherlock. I was going to send you away but now I can't. I'm trapped."

"Mycroft has warned me that the authorities are ready to take you into custody. He's holding them off. But--his influence can only extend so far, last so long."

"Leave me Sherlock. Just walk away," standing and shoving him so hard he topples sideways off the sofa onto the floor.  
Standing up, brushing himself off, he draws himself up to full height," James Moriarty. You cannot dictate to me. I choose to stay of my own accord. Now, sit on that love seat so you may make amends for shoving me."

Now that we're out in the open and know our time is limited we become inseparable.

For almost three months I hold on and then my life begins to crumble. Most of my network has been taken down by the NSA and various other institutions.

I can't take Sherlock down with me and so as to make it easier on him, I avoid contact, not answering his texts and calls.

A banging on my door, shouting in the middle of the night, awakes me sharply.

"James, open this door. I'll stay all night waking the neighbors if I have to," bellowing, pounding.

Hastily throwing on a robe I open the door and Sherlock barges in, hair swirling around his face, tears down his cheeks.

"You can't shut me out of your life now. I know what is going to occur. Please, please, let me be with you," anguish in his deep voice.  
Cupping his face in my hands, a river of tears flowing down both faces, "It's tomorrow, my darling. They're coming for me. I was told by my top lieutenant this morning. I'm not running. Won't do any good, they'll track me down."

"This night my love. Let's have one more night," he draws me to him in a tight embrace. The clothes flutter, swirl off in a haphazardly way onto the floor, moving quickly to the bedroom.

The first light of day startles me awake. The sounds I hear is Sherlock moving around. Opening my eyes I see him dressed.  
Up onto my elbow, I try to grab him, but he stays far enough from me to avoid any contact.

"I'm going to appeal to Mycroft. Maybe transport us out of the country. Anything." I hear the front door slam, and I shower and dress. All the while remembering, recalling all our times, short as it was, together.

I hear my phone ping, pick it up, and it's a text from Sherlock.

Could not change anything. I told them we'd be on the roof of Bart's Hospital at noon. Join me at eleven, no questions."

Barts? Roof?

I don't question.

Dressed in a blue suit, white shirt, and dark blue tie with a navy coat, shivering not from the cold but from the vision of this tall, lanky man appearing in front of me again. For the last time.


	12. For All We Know-Last Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you don't like death then don't read this chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two character deaths

He walks through the door to the rooftop, steps into my arms, my hand around his neck, pulling his lips to mine.  
As we break apart, he says," They're downstairs. I've asked them to give us an hour, but they won't wait that long. We have half an hour."  
"Half an hour? To let you know, my loving Sherlock, you've always been in my head. No one else has come as close to me as you. I love you, love you."  
"It was a time I'll never forget. Too bad we couldn't take it further."  
Looking down at my shoes, ashamed.

"Do you blame me for it all?"  
His hand gently pulls my face up to see his eyes, gold-flecked, "You did what you had to. Right or wrong, I can't judge you."  
I shift slightly away from him and from my pocket, I take out my phone, hit a button, and a song begins to play.  
His grin is all I need, " Yes I remember very well Jim."

" Dance with me. Let us hold each other."  
Within each other's embrace, he nods his understanding. Understanding this is our final moments together.  
The song plays, us not dancing, just rocking, cheek to cheek.

For all we know  
We may never meet again  
Before you go

Make this moment sweet again  
We won't say goodnight  
Until the last minute  
I will hold out my hand  
And my heart will be in it  
For all we know

This may only be a dream  
We come and we go  
Like the ripples of a stream  
So love me--

We look deep, deep into each other's eyes.

Love me tonight

Tomorrow was made for some

Tomorrow may never come

For all we know

The tune finishes, the door flings open, the police yelling 'stop', 'stop'.

I do not see, but hear Mycroft's voice, "Brother mine, don't," cracking with emotion.

Close to the perimeter, the edge of the roof.

Kissing, one person, one love, our bodies lean over the edge, falling, falling.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, but there was only one way I was going to end this.


End file.
